


that kind of sick

by apolliades



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: (mildly), Affection, Comfort, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Quintuple Drabble, Trans Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 02:00:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18420519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apolliades/pseuds/apolliades
Summary: “I ain’t ever wanted to kiss a girl my whole life. Not once. Just guys.”“So?”





	that kind of sick

**Author's Note:**

> this is a follow up to [maketh the man.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17906321) i finally managed to write the comfort part. sort of. :p

“For the thousandth time. Yes, I believe you.” Bucky’s hand works gently over the red marks circumscribing Steve’s ribcage. “You don’t gotta do this to yourself, y’know, you’re so skinny—”

Steve presses on like Bucky never even opened his mouth. “And you don’t think I’m sick.”

Daring to raise an eyebrow earns Bucky a pinch to the shoulder. He exaggerates his wince like it might give Steve pause — it doesn’t.

“I don’t think you’re sick. Not that kind of sick.” He presses his fingers into this certain spot in Steve’s spine that he knows knots up real bad, and Steve grunts softly. His eyes close for a moment. Bucky feels a vague sense of pride for managing to distract him a little bit. “If you are I am too, anyway.”

“What, sick?”

“Yeah.” Bucky wriggles his eyebrows. _“Queer.”_

Steve hums quietly. Bucky sets up rubbing his ribs again, as gentle as he can.

“Maybe it’s contagious. Maybe one of us gave it to the other.”

“You’re older. You probably had it first.”

It’s not quite a routine — they find new words, new phrases, new steps to dance this same dance — but it’ll become one soon if they keep on like this. It’s not that Bucky minds. It’s just that if this is how weary _he_ is — he watches Steve’s face, his eyes open now and downcast. The shadows beneath them are so dark and deep. The lines at the corners are tight.

“You don’t think I’m pretending.” Steve’s inflection is closer to a statement than a question but only just. He isn’t often vulnerable like this. It makes Bucky want to wrap him up, lock him away somewhere safe, never let him go. He resists the urge to crush Steve against him.

“I don’t think you’re pretending. Wanna know how come?”

Steve puts his cheek to Bucky’s chest; his voice comes out all squashed. “How come.”

“Well, for starters, when we first met you told me your name was Steve. And when I asked how comes you’re wearing a skirt if your name’s Steve, you socked me so hard I spat out a tooth.”

Steve’s tone is begrudging, but Bucky can feel his smile. “It was a milk tooth. It was already loose.”

“It weren’t that loose. I’m tellin’ you, Stevie, ain’t a dame in New York punches like that. That’s how I know you ain’t pretending.”

“Because I punched you?”

“Yeah. You don’t punch like a dame.”

“Gee. Thanks, Buck.”

Bucky lifts his head, nudges Steve into lifting his too, leans in till they’re nose to nose. “Wanna know how else I know you ain’t pretending?”

“Mhm.”

“I ain’t ever wanted to kiss a girl my whole life. Not once. Just guys.”

Steve knows where this is going. Bucky can tell by the corners of his mouth. “So?”

“So, I want to kiss _you_. All the time.”

“Yeah? Why ain’t you, then?”

Bucky threads his fingers into Steve’s hair. “Now, _that’s_ the first sensible question you’ve asked all day.”


End file.
